


Be Brave

by RandomnonsenseDA (B1nary_S0lo)



Series: Rora Surana [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Childhood, Elven Alienages, Gen, Mage Origin, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:45:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1nary_S0lo/pseuds/RandomnonsenseDA
Summary: When a young Rora loses control of her magic, she fears the worst. Luckily, someone is there to guide her.





	Be Brave

Rora ran, as fast as her small legs could carry her, down the streets of the Alienage. The smell of smoke tickled her nose and stung her eyes, already watering with unshed tears. She breathed hard and her stomach ached with terror. _Hide,_ was her only thought. _Have to, have to hide._

Men and women shouted behind her, calling for help, calling for buckets of water, perhaps calling after her, but Rora had no intention of stopping. Besides, who would chase after a girl of six when there was a fire to be put out?

Tears obscured her vision as she ducked down one of the Alienage’s many alleyways. Her favorite hiding spot, the space beneath the Tavister’s elevated house, was out of the question now. So instead she turned one corner, then another, until she came to the back wall of the Alienage.

There was a thick growth of shrubs here, taller than her by several feet. Without stopping she wedged herself through the leaves and branches, crawled until the tunnel widened out into a space large enough for someone her size to sit without being seen. Here, she sank to the ground, buried her face in her thin knees, and sobbed.

She’d really done it this time. She’d set _fire_ to the Tavister’s home. Grandmother, no, _everyone_ , would be _furious_ with her.

Rora hadn’t meant to do it. At least, she hadn’t meant to set such a _big_ fire. She’d been hiding under the house, as she often did, practicing the trick of lighting fire in her hand. If she focused very hard she could get a small flame to flicker for a moment on her palm. Still harder, and she could make it stay for two, three minutes.

Today, though, she must have focused too hard. The fire burst forth, just like it had that first time with Grandmother, and before she could stop it one of the stilts that held the cottage up was burning. She screamed, beat at the fire with her skirts, kicked dust at it, but nothing worked. The flame was too hot, spread too quickly. She fled.

Now, she cried even harder at the thought of what might happen to her. After the first fire, her grandmother had forbid her from ever making one again. What would Grandmother do when she realized Rora had disobeyed her? What about the other grown-ups? The Tavister family? She’d done a very, very bad thing. What if they locked her up and sent her away, like they had Maia Sirah’s uncle after he stole from the town stores? Renewed sobs burst from her throat, and she took big, gulping breaths to quiet herself.

Not a moment too soon. The instant she quieted she heard footsteps—many, heavy footsteps, and they were getting closer. She hugged her knees tighter and bit her lip, huge tears plopping down her cheeks and into the dust. Was everyone in the Alienage coming to get her?

As the walkers neared her hiding place she could hear voices, men’s voices, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She held herself very still as they stopped just outside her hiding place. Through the leaves, she could see the shadows shifting. They were pacing outside. They were looking for her. She listened hard, but she could still only hear snatches of what they said (“—still here?” “…couldn’t have gone far.” “Look over—").

She knew every person in the Alienage but these men didn’t sound like anyone she knew. Their accents were strange, like the humans she and her grandmother sometimes bartered with in the marketplace, and her imagination went wild with panic. Had she been so bad the humans were mad at her too?

Then another voice spoke, quieting the others. A woman’s voice. Rora couldn’t hear her words either, but the voice was fervent, soft and familiar. After a moment one of the men replied, loud enough to make out: “It’s worth a try.”

The footsteps shifted again, and a single set approached. Rora squinted her eyes. Through the leaves she could see the figure stop, then kneel close to where Rora hid.

“Rora? It’s Adaia. Are you in there?”

Rora looked out through the leaves. She had always liked Adaia, Melia Tabris’ mama. A lot of other grown-ups—including Grandmother—got impatient with Rora because she cried a lot, but not Adaia. She said: “Why don’t you tell me about it, Rora?” or “Why don’t you come draw pictures with me and Melia?” or “Come help me in the garden.” She patted Rora’s head, even picked her up and held her sometimes. When Rora missed her own mama, Adaia was almost as good.

Rora stirred, shifted on her cramped knees. She was cold from hiding, and her belly had started to grumble with hunger. Maybe, if she spoke very, very quietly, those men wouldn’t hear. Just Adaia. Maybe Adaia would understand.

“I’m here,” she whispered.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Adaia said. “Are you all right?”

Rora slowly nodded. Then, realizing Adaia wouldn’t be able to see, she answered: “Yes.”

She heard whispers—those men. Adaia turned and said something to them, and they quieted. Rora hugged her knees.

“Adaia, who’s there?” she said, voice small. “Am I in trouble?”

There was silence, then Adaia sighed. Heavy and sad.

“No,” she said. “No, you’re not in trouble.”

“But I—” she choked. “I hurt—”

“No, dear, no,” Adaia said quickly. “You didn’t hurt anyone.”

Rora swallowed a gulp of air. “I didn’t?”

“No,” said Adaia emphatically. Rora could almost see her, the way she would shake her head. “There was no one in that house, thank the Maker, and we put the fire out before it spread. You didn’t hurt anyone, darling.”

Some of the tightness in Rora’s chest loosened. She sat up straighter.

“So, nobody’s mad?”

Adaia was quiet for a moment, then sighed.

“I don’t know, Rora,” she said. “But… it’s going to be all right. I promise.”

This statement didn’t exactly reassure Rora, and some of the tightness in her chest returned. Even more so when one of the men spoke again.

“…taking too long,” she heard him say, and then Adaia turned and spoke to him sharply. Rora squinted again, tried to listen as carefully as she could, but she couldn’t hear or see much of anything.

“Adaia?” she said.

The woman shifted again.

“Listen, Rora,” she said. “Just… I need you to come out here. Now.”

Rora bit her lip, which was starting to quiver again.

“Rora.” Adaia’s voice wasn’t angry, but insistent, like when she called Melia back from a road with carts on it. Rora swallowed.

“I’m scared,” she said.

“I know.” Adaia’s voice was kind, so kind. “But I need you to be brave. Can you be my brave girl, just for a little bit?”

Rora felt like her whole body might start shaking. She didn’t want to go back out into the light, to face people who might be mad or yell at her. She wanted to hide forever and ever and ever. But even more than that, she didn’t want to disappoint Adaia.

Without another word, she crawled forward and pushed her way out through the leaves, through the branches, squirmed into Adaia’s waiting arms.

The woman hugged her close and Rora buried her face in her shoulder. Then Adaia pushed her back gently and looked into her face. Her expression was more serious than Rora had ever seen it.

“Thank you,” she said. “Now, can you keep being brave?”

Rora nodded. Adaia brushed a loose strand of hair behind Rora’s ear, a gentle gesture, and then she took Rora’s hand and they both stood up, turned.

Rora’s eyes widened. Behind them were the humans she’d heard. Four human men, but like none she’d ever seen before. They were so tall, dressed in armor that sparkled white. Two wore helmets that obscured their faces. Rora gripped Adaia’s hand tighter. The woman squeezed her hand back, and then addressed the men.

“It’s done,” she said. Her voice was clear, an edge of anger, like when she spoke to the shouting humans who sometimes tried to enter the Alienage. One of the men nodded.

“Let’s be off, then,” he said. His voice was less scary than Rora would have expected. She almost liked it.

The man who’d spoken turned, and the others followed. Adaia followed after them, leading Rora. She looked up into Adaia’s face, confused, searching for an answer, but the woman’s expression was hard, no emotion but a small line between her brows. Rora turned her eyes forward, bewildered, but glad for the warmth of Adaia’s hand. She tried very, very hard to be brave.


End file.
